Just a Bell
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day 1562: Still tipsy from George's party and with her father's address in hand, Chloe has left Rachel's house in search of some answers. - Red series


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 74th cycle. Now cycle 75!_

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**"Just a Bell"  
((Older) Rachel, Sophie (OC),) Chloe (OC)  
Red series  
_(no listings yet; sequel to "That Which Was Hidden")_  
**

If she had played her cards right, and tipsy or not she was just about sure that she had, neither Rachel nor Sophie would ever know she'd been out this late. It might have involved calling in a very indirect favor, but it had worked so far, and if everyone kept their mouth shut, it would stay that way.

If she had called in the favor to the person who owed it to her, she would have called Sophie, and the payback would have been for getting her back home that night she'd been drunk – and as she'd waited, she'd wondered whether or not that was irony. Instead, she called Sophie's boyfriend, Julian. It had been his girlfriend who'd called on her and started this mess really, so he should shoulder some of the burden. Mostly, she had been banking on the fact that he was one of the nicest guys in the world, and being called, even so late in the middle of the night, by a drunk underage girl (as far as he knew; she was actually starting to sober up, which was part of the reason she didn't want to have to make her way back alone) needing to get home, he wouldn't say no, and he hadn't. He came and picked her up and drove her. He didn't ask where it was that he'd picked her up from or what she was doing there, and she was thankful for this lack of questioning.

The night hadn't gone quite as she'd expected it to, after she'd snuck back out of Rachel's home with the address for her birth father obtained under the cover of night. She'd taken a taxi to get there, not trusting herself with any other mode of transportation. She'd spent the whole ride doing her best not to appear drunk on any level, to keep the driver from getting too curious about the teenage girl sitting in his car at this hour of night. This task had been made slightly more complicated by the fact that she had started feeling ill. She kept herself together though, and finally the car pulled up to the curb. She paid, got out, and watched the taxi drive off before she turned to look up at the building in front of her.

This was where her father lived.

She just had to go up the front steps, ring the bell and rouse him from his sleep, which she had to admit would bring her an unnatural amount of satisfaction. It sounded simple. Walk, ring… So why couldn't she move?

How many years had she been waiting for this moment? How many times had she wanted nothing more than to go up there and see him, talk to him… He was her father, and he should have been in her life, to see the good, the bad. He should be there when she was on stage, shouting and clapping louder than anyone else.

He had seen her perform, once… and she hadn't even known he was there, because he didn't stay. All these years all she'd wanted to do was talk. Now, since she'd found out about his hidden visit, she had some yelling to do, too. She had wanted nothing more than to see him, to get to know him and see if somehow there was a part of her within him. She had run away from Indiana and come to New York to find him. She hadn't managed to do it. Instead, she'd run into Rachel Berry, met her for the first time and was convinced to actually go back home. Now she was back here, and it had had nothing to do with her father. The only thing that had brought her to this city was her dream, and her idol. How could she have ever been upset at her? It was her father who deserved her frustration and her anger.

And in that moment, a small voice inside her head had said the word she should have been saying out loud all this time: No. Or better yet, why? Why should she get into anger, to dedicate so much of her one lonesome life worrying about a man who hadn't bothered to make himself known, to be a part of her life, all this time? Here she was, in the greatest city in the world as far as she was concerned, living with her idol, learning from her, making some of the best friends she had ever had, and slowly but surely falling in love for the first time with a boy who was something like a Greek statue or an angel in disguise, she wasn't sure… and she was letting that man, who had been nothing but a disappointment all her life, wreck this on top of everything.

If he had wanted to be a part of her life, it wasn't as though he hadn't had a chance. He'd had years. She was done waiting. The moment she took a step away from the steps to his home rather than toward them, she knew it was all over.

So she'd called Julian, and he'd come to pick her up and drive her back to Rachel's house. She thanked him, made sure he wouldn't tell anyone, even Sophie, and he promised that it would be their secret. She got out of his car, and went into the house.

Careful not to wake anyone again, she'd gone to the downstairs bathroom and taken a quick shower, washing away the last of the day and the layer that had been her pining after the idea of her father. After she'd changed into her pyjamas and untangled her unruly red curls, she had gotten into bed, physically, mentally, and emotionally spent. She didn't know that it even took a moment more than her putting her head down on her pillow that she was already asleep.

That night she wouldn't dream about her father, her birth father. She had a father, and he was back in Indiana, and she missed him and would call him in the morning. For now, she slept, and she dreamt of the boy she had danced with earlier that night, the boy she had kissed. In her dreams, they were dancing, and they were happy.

THE END

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******A/N: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
****In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
************always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!**


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